four letter word
by Ghost White
Summary: Frostiron, Avenglock Four shorts were Sherlock and John meddle in Tony and Loki's relationship. One were someone else meddles… Love is just a four letter word. Should be easy to say, right?


1)

"They could almost be related."

Tony pinches his nose and lets out a noisy groan before looking to the Norse god and consulting detective conversing on the couch quietly about god only knows what. Well. Yes. A god would know because he's part of the conversation. "That's a really horrifying prospect. It's a good thing in my opinion that Loki is really an only child."

"Is he really that bad?" John asks, adding fancy little cookies to the tray with the cups and tea pot. So very English. Tony doesn't even drink tea…

"Did you ever read any of the papers or watch the TV about a year back? That attack in New York?"

"Hum? Oh yes, that terrorist attack. Very tragic."

"Yeah. That was Loki's first visit to Earth." Tony says, glancing over with a sly grin to watch the blond man slowly set the kettle back on the stove and turn to Tony with wide eyes, he looks a little pale.

"Mmm, yeah. That's my Loki."

"And you two are… ah."

"Gay for each other." Tony says, explaining it the same way he did to Pepper.

"Just each other?" John asks, finally composing himself to setting the kettle on the tray.

"I've been with every one of sports illustrated calendar girls in both 2009 and 2010."

"Oh." John nods with a little blush, glancing to the two on the couch. "What's that like, having a lover like him?"

"Lover? No. Not me and Loki. It's just… we're not lovers. It's not like that with us."

John nods his head slowly like he understands more than he's letting on. Clearing his throat a little, "I still say they could be related."

"I wish you wouldn't. Really, It's giving me nightmares and I'm not even asleep." Tony groans, rubbing his hair into a mess and fallowing the man out. Claiming the spare chair across from the couch.

"Wouldn't what?" Loki asks, and Tony has to swallow a shiver as he's stared down by two psychopaths.

Tony just hopes Shield knows what it's doing, because in his opinion, it has bad idea written all over it.

* * *

2)

"I'm bored. Bored. Bored. Bored."

Tony had to pause and glance across the rec-room from behind the bar, an eyebrow crooked up, and meeting eyes with Sherlock across the space for one horrifying moment.

The consulting detective had been a member of Shield for approximately three months, an American citizen for two. Already they had all learned that 'bored' was just as dangerous from the genius' mouth as it was from Loki; when Loki bitches he's bored the whole Avengers tower goes into level three lockdown.

John lowers his paper and meets Tony's eyes across the room in sympathy.

"Sher, you've got to be kidding me. There's a stack of cases the size of Mount Rushmore right there!" Tony says waving a hand at the table that Sherlock's paperwork has swallowed whole. It was a nice little modern thing that had actually survived Loki's attack all that time ago, now it just looks like a pile of books and papers. Some foreign monster to go with the foreign monster on his couch.

"They're all so dull. So boring." The newly titled Special Agent Consulting Detective or S.A.C.D for S.H.I.E.L.D. simply glares over at the stack. Flicking a hand out he points at the top folder, "The wife of a preacher, clearly over zealot, accidental death trying to attempt exorcizing on the child." His finger flicks down to the next. "The husband; an annoyingly fat man with an affair with a small dog and peanut butter. Killed the nanny for catching them. Then killed the wife for catching him. Really, Americans need to invest on better door locks. It was obvious when we did the walk through of the house." down, "The nanny is a double agent serving under NATO. Mycroft verified our need to back off."

He reaches for a file on the short coffee table in front of the table without even getting up. "These six are your spouses. I took the liberty of removing them from the stack."

Tony flinches at that. He still wouldn't go so far as to call him and Loki spouses, they live together, they share a room and a bed and almost always are inseparable but the L word isn't something that easily comes out of their mouths.

If Loki's killing still… that's bad. Very bad for everyone, most of all for his god of chaos and their relationship. Walking across the room he grabs the folder and clasps it close to his chest.

"Yeah… ah. Thanks for that. I'll talk to Fury about getting you some more cases." He says, shuffling his feet across the floor, the glass scraping on the marble counter as he grabs it on his way by. Knocking back the drink before continuing on his way.

Tony doesn't let himself think till he gets up to the penthouse and into the empty bedroom. Sitting on the bed and slowly cracking the folder open. Staring down at the stacks of files and the hand written note on top of them.

He licks his lips, tasting the scotch there and wishing he'd brought the bottle back with him as he grabs the note and lets his eyes flick down it.

_'The dates coincide with domestics between him and you, try to consider this next time. SH_'

Fuck.

Tony sets the file onto the bed and rubs his face with a groan.

* * *

3)

Thor still didn't understand the finer points of cooking, the man has a hard enough time working the coffee maker, the higher culinary arts are completely lost to him. That's why on this Wednesday night, Thor's cooking night, they're all sitting about eating Chinese from boxes.

Not that anyone minded, after a day like today, even if Wolfgang Puck himself had been a member of the Avengers, they'd still be eating Chinese takeout. It was a shitty mission with flames and daggers and Tony flipping his lid when the want to be super villain sorcerer had buried his knife up to the knuckles in Loki's belly.

The aimless chatter of everyone talking around them a soothing balm of 'this is home'.

Tony's on the couch, Loki's body a warm by his side, both taking comfort in each others closeness even as their knees brushing and elbows bumping as they eat. Well, as Tony eats. Loki is pushing around his food more than eating it. The god is still more than a little queasy from two hours in surgery with John and Bruce stringing his insides back into place.

Tony digs into his orange chicken in an effort not to dwell on the smell of blood and medication that still clings to Loki's warm skin.

Bruce and John are giving both of them the doctor equivalent of 'I'm undressing you' only it's not sexy, not sexy at all. It involves latex gloves and scalpels.

"Try to eat, please." He says softly, turning his head a little to glance down into Loki's take out box, still mostly full.

"No." Loki grunts, setting it on the table with sluggish movements before turning to hide his lanky body against Tony's side. Sighing softly, he sets his own take out down and gathers Loki's slightly shaking body into his arms. Letting the god hide in the safety there.

Closing his eyes he inhales the scent of Loki's hair, trying to find the undertone of leather and spices that makeup Loki's scent.

He didn't intend to fall asleep but that's normally how life works. Surely if he did he'd have done it somewhere a little more comfortable than the couch in the rec-room. Somewhere that wouldn't leave him waking up with a kink in his neck.

Loki's warm weight draped over his chest stops him from stretching out or groaning. He'd much rather stay uncomfortable than wake the slumbering god. At least someone had the decency to turn out the lights and cover them with a blanket.

The city lights just enough glow to offer him a view of the sleeping god in his arms. Pale and face drawn in pain.

Today was a glaring warning that no matter how immortal those from Asgard and Jotunheim, promised to be, they're not. Loki's blood was just as red and just as hot as it would be from any human. His pain just as real.

"Get better, love." He breaths softly, stroking his hand ever so gently over Loki's shoulder. Twisting his fingers in the soft knit afghan draped over them.

"You never say that when he's awake."

Tony has to clench his jaw to stop from wanting to jump out of his skin, least the twitch awaken Loki. Turning his head and glaring silently at Sherlock across the dark rec-room, his lanky shadow nothing but a spill of ink against the arm chair.

"You should." Sherlock continues even if Tony doesn't want him to. "He wants to hear it. You don't see it. How, I don't know. The facts are most obvious."

The detective plucks at the violin in his hands for a moment, Tony drawing his arms tighter around Loki as he shifts in his sleep. He's one more note away from barking at Sherlock to get the fuck out but once the man actually starts to play, a soft melody that sounds most haunting, Loki settles. Falling back into a deep restful sleep, somewhere beyond the pain.

Tony doesn't say thank you but he does hug Loki closer and settles to fall back to sleep too.

* * *

4)

Loki rubs his temples as he paces, plotting and plotting. He's double dipping on the Avengers, slipping behind their backs to do things. Evil things. Wicked things. His soul long ago was already dipped in the blood of innocents, no need to stop now just because he's befriended a hero, just because he's bedding Stark.

Not in a relationship. Always held at arms length. Always kept away. Never loved because monsters can't be loved. Odin never loved him; Thor only thinks he loves him. Tony doesn't even pretend to love him.

His strides eat up the distance of rec-room, turning on boot heel and retracing his path, crossing from the shadowed cave like room to the sun kissed balcony. Back and forth, his pacing mirroring his life. Dark and Light.

He'd been propositioned today by a high power by Midgard standers, a single man with visions not unlike what Loki's own once were. Chaos and destruction. The familiar flavors of blood and smoke on the man's clothes had made Loki crave. His bones ache to partake. His own blood itches with the need to rain destruction on a land he now strives to protect.

"Coming with us? Clint is paying today." The chipper English lit startles Loki from his deep and dark thoughts, turning his head to the side so he can watch John jog across the rec-room to retrieve his jacket from the back of a chair. The man falling still with his hand hovering over the fabric. "Loki?"

"No." He breathes out, turning away and striding the rest of the way from the room to stand in the glow of the sun. Watching the city below him. The ebb and flow of traffic, so many ants hurrying about with no purpose.

His body tenses as the smaller mortal joins him at the balcony edge, pulling the jacket around his chest before resting his hands on the rail. The wind this high up is bitter and cold even in the best of summer days.

"You want to tell me about it?"

"What?" Turning from the view he leers down at the mortal. John simply looks up at him, unfazed. Unafraid. He's spent too long being leered over by Sherlock to be intimidated by the height.

John bounces his shoulders in a shrug. "You've got this look, you get it sometimes. Like you want to kill something."

"And the wise mortal steps out onto a balcony with me when he sees it?" He questions, offering a smile that shows too much sharp teeth. "You know I've thrown someone from this building before. I wouldn't hesitate to do so again."

"Yeah. But then you fell in love with the guy. Maybe you already loved him then."

"There is no love in our relationship." Loki snaps, turning away from John, clasping his hands behind his back and surveying the city once more. It would be so easy to bring this world to its knees. He knows how to now, knows its workings and weaknesses.

"That's shit. You two love each other." John says, giving him a crooked frown.

"Oh, and you can speak so freely of love when you'd be willing to follow your detective to the ends of the earth but wont say you love him?"

"I'm not sleeping with Sherlock." John replies with a huff, clearly ruffled by Loki's comments. "Is this what's bugging you? That Tony doesn't say he loves you?"

Loki can't stop his hand from darting out and gripping tight to John's neck. Squeezing till the doctor has to wheeze in his breaths. "You need to keep your nose to your own business mortal."

"Maybe he needs you to say it first." Watson says his breath short and choppy as he holds tight to Loki's arm. His eyes are sharp though. Bastard.

"I will never love him." His voice growls, nose scant inches from John's. Dropping him to the ground Loki turns to pace back into the rec-room, stopping short as he sees Tony standing at the doorway to the lift. His mahogany eyes are dark with emotion, there's no cocky smile, no life in him at all.

He takes a retreating step back before drawing his magic to him and teleporting away. Unable to handle watching the man he loves hate him.

* * *

5)

"Come on now… I don't really think you want to do that. Not really." Tony's amazed at how calm his voice sounds when his body is shaking hard with fear. His heart hammering up his throat and threatening to crawl out, shrapnel or no.

Loki's eyes are emotionless wells of emerald green across the space, the small drips of blood from his temple only making the color more vivid. Black hair matted a little with sweat and blood, messed from where the Glock is pressed hard to his head.

"I don't think you know what I really want, now do you? No. No. No. You're not that smart." The man holding the gun tisks, shaking his head in mock shame. "Maybe I want to watch your face crumple as his brains decorate the wall. They will. He's already proven he bleeds. I'm sure he'll bleed a lot too." The mad man grins wide, griping Loki's chin in his hand and tilting his head a little.

"Let him go. Take me." Tony says, lifting his bare hands. No suit, which was part of the agreement to meet here. Mortal to mortal. One god's life between them. Although in Tony's opinion the empty warehouse is a little cliché.

Apparently Loki had given up on the Avengers and taken trust in the wrong man. One who cared little for world domination and more for personal pain. A human with enough wits to trick the god of mischief.

Tony didn't care if Loki left. All Tony wants is him to come back. Alive, not in a body bag. Please not a closed coffin.

"Mmm. No. That's so boring." Drawls the man with the gun. Tapping it to the side of Loki's head as the god's eyes slide closed and he swallows like he's fighting off nausea.

Something's not right about all of this, setting off all the alarms in Tony's head. The handcuffs maybe; something is binding Loki's magic, it's the only way that the proud god would let this happen to himself.

"I'll give you anything. Just let him go just-"

"Noooooo. N-"

What ever the man is going to say next is cut off by the roar of a helicopter outside. It sounds of sweet home and promises of the other Avengers, guns and arrows and the wrath of gods. Help.

"You know. This isn't over." The mad man sighs dramatically and drops the gun to his side, letting go of Loki's hair and letting him drop to his hands and knees on the hard concrete. It takes everything Tony has not to run to him.

"I'd like it to be."

The man rolls his eyes and levels the gun at Tony. In all cold honesty, he's okay with that, as long as it's not pointed at Loki any more.

The mad man must read the relief in his eyes because his evil smile drops Tony's heart to his belly a second too late to do anything.

"No. I guess it is over." The man says his voice sing song as the gun drops down and fires. Loki's pain choked cry echoing though the building louder then the gunshot itself.

Tony's mind goes blank as he leaps for the crumpled god, ignoring the man as he turns tail and runs from the approaching Avengers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

Anything but this.

Loki isn't moving much, his breath nothing but a weak tickle against Tony's cheek as he gathers the god into his arms, feeling the branding hot spill of blood that soaks though his shirt. Tony's eyes are burning and his ears ringing as he begs to Odin for his adopted son's life, begs to any god that will listen.

"Don't go. Don't die. Keep breathing. Oh god. No. I love you. I can't live without you. I love you." He rambles, clasping Loki tighter as his breath chokes and rattles.

Long cold fingers grasping his shirt weakly, the whimper Loki makes is heartbreaking. Choking on the blood rushing from his body and into his lungs, his words garbled and choked. 'Love…you…too."

Tony doesn't look up as his friends and comrades in arms rush around him, Bruce and Johns precise voices nothing but an echo in the distance. Everything so far away as his entire being concentrates on these last fleeting moments with Loki in his arms and those three broken words. Everything he's always been too afraid to say spilling from his mouth in a rush. Needing it all to get out before it's too late.

Someone, probably Rogers is pulling him away till only his hand holds to Loki's. His rambles of love and devotion turning to moans of anguish as the two good doctors take his love's life into their hands. Thor hovering near by, his bright blue eyes liquid with tears. The skies threatening to rain with the forming storms.

Everything goes a little fuzzy, his body simply functioning because his mind has blanked out, unwilling to exist in a world without the god of chaos at his side. Not that he ever left him. He'd stayed, holding tight to Loki's limp hand. Mindful of IV lines and blood oxygen monitor. Bruce and John working in tandem around him, their murmured words and the sick sound of latex in blood mixing into a white nose.

Its hours later, when things are silent except the soft sounds of the monitors that Tony finally blinks awake. Bruce's hand on his shoulder soft and reassuring.

"He's stable. He's a fighter that's for sure. He's going to be fine." He says, pushing his glasses up his nose. He looks clean, fresh from the shower. Probably to clean off the blood.

Tony nods his head softly and slowly looks back to the limp god. He looks dead despite Bruce's reassurance, pale and so still. Loki's never been one to be still, always fussing and joking and moving and living. Always living.

"How'd you find us?" Tony asks after a quiet moment, his voice rough from emotion. The untraceable call, the directions to go on foot, no cell, no Jarvis enabled car. Two taxi changes. It was all a rather elaborate plan well thought out by the mad man.

"Sherlock." Bruce says with a sigh, like it could be anyone else. Tony's not sure how the detective did it, but he owes him his life. If the doctors hadn't been there right when Loki had been shot, he's sure the verdict would have been much different.

"He… ah, wanted me to tell you that 'It's about time you opened your bloody mouth." Bruce says, giving Tony's shoulder an assuring squeeze before backing up slowly. "We're all happy he's back Tony."

Tony nods softly, already focused back on Loki, rubbing a small soothing circle on the pale skin of his wrist.

Now, in the calm of the medical bay, with the knowledge that Loki is going to be okay, he doesn't regret a single word he said and he can't wait till Loki wakes up once more to say it all over again.

* * *

**Big FAT thank you shout out to the worlds best Beta ever glamourraisedfromperdition**


End file.
